


Untitled

by Belle_Evans



Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Brain Damage, Emotional Hurt, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 00:14:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11771445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belle_Evans/pseuds/Belle_Evans
Summary: Ben's life has fallen apart.





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> Original Author's Note: So in the middle of puzzling out something in Last Call for this ficathon, this popped into my head almost fully formed. There is a loosely explained, but obvious plot device in this one. I don’t use plot devices generally, but this fic came with one, just work with me :-):
> 
> At the end of the story is what jenoofer wanted/didn’t want in her fic
> 
> This was posted originally for the fraser_vecchio LJ community ficathon in 2006. No changes made except maybe minor ones like punctuation/spelling.

Untitled

 

"Do I know you?"

"No." Benton Fraser lies as he sits down next to the stranger on the bench. And he doesn’t know why he lies. Something perverse in his nature triggers it perhaps. Or more accurately, the pain he’s in is already so acute, this lie couldn’t do any more harm.

"You here to see somebody? You waiting for somebody? "

"I - ," Fraser hesitates.

"That’s cool, whatever. None of my business. I don’t want to take up your time." Benton catches the flicker of sadness in the man’s eyes, underneath the nonchalance as he smiles and turns his head to stare at the copse of trees a few feet away from them.

"No, no." Ben says as he traces his brow. "I have some time."

"How long were you married?"

Startled gray blue eyes flick to the stranger, then he looks self–consciously at his unringed hand.

"I, how…"

The other man gives him a lopsided smile as he shrugs his shoulders.

"Yeah, it’s faded pretty good, but I can still see you got a little line. I don’t know for some reason my eye goes there on people. I’m not trying to get in your business or anything. I just - ." He shrugs again, "You know."

And Ben does know. More than he wants to.

"My husband and I, we are in fact still married."

"Husband, huh?" The Mountie tenses, he hadn’t considered his words before speaking.

"Yes, " he answers quietly as he shifts to look the other man almost defiantly in the eye. "Yes, my husband."

 

"Huh. Any chance of you and your old man getting back together?" The frank interest in the other man’s eyes is like stake in his heart.

When his life was first falling apart, Ben was the picture of coping and grace under pressure, but somewhere in the middle of it all he stopped eating. There was so much to be done. He just couldn’t find the time to eat. When the weight loss became noticeable, he smiled politely and shrugged off concerned inquiries. And then he collapsed in front of the consulate and his choices narrowed. There was no other option for him, but to accept the family leave Thatcher had been trying to foist on him since the beginning. Her order for leave also came with a recommendation for a counselor. Thatcher gave him a direct order to attend the first appointment. The counselor was supposed to help him deal with the reality of his situation. The reality. He’s been in counseling for the last two years

"No," he says as he averts his eyes from the other man’s. "My husband and I will more than likely never be what we were."

"Asshole!"

The vehemence of the response startles Ben.

"I mean look at you," the man continues. "You’re easy on the eyes, obviously way too nice. And you’re what, some kind of schoolteacher or something? So it’s not like you can’t provide. You’re probably beating them off with a stick."

"I --."

"Sorry, again none of my business."

"No, I…I don’t mind. Our separation isn’t either of our faults - ."

"Yeah, right. Who did he cheat on you with?"

"My husband was always faithful to me."

"Did you cheat? Maybe you’re not very good at beating people off."

In the past Ben has played obtuse on purpose, less so once he married and was safely ‘of the market’. A flash of the ring often was enough and when it wasn’t his husband.....

But now Ben doesn’t know what to do. His perverse nature has gotten him on this bench, he might as well let it reign a little bit more. He looks the stranger in the eye and meets the entendre straight on.

"I’ve never gotten complaints in the past."

The eyes across from his widen in shocked surprise and then there is laughter. A great boisterous laugh.

"Hey you’re alright. God, your husband is an idiot."

"It’s not – ."

"Yeah, yeah I heard you. Hey, you wanna take a walk. I mean if you have the time."

Fraser watches as the man unfolds himself from the bench and brushes imaginary dirt off his pants. "I mean if you’re not meeting anyone. It’s no big deal I was just gonna stroll, might as well have company."

Ben smiles at the faux non-chalance and lets him off the hook.

"A walk would be nice."

The walk is short. It last just long enough for the two of them to disappear into a cluster of trees leaving then virtually unseen by any passerbys.

Ben follows the man a little bit farther into the cluster until he sees that there’s a small clearing. The overhang of the tree branches makes it shady and a little cool like a cave. Secluded like an island. The man in front of him stops and so does Fraser.

When he turns the look in his eyes tells Fraser everything he needs to know about what’s about to happen. And he already knows that he will allow it.

"Why don’t we," his companion begins in a voice that has dropped seductively low, "give your husband something to think about?"

Fraser stands very still as the man he’s going to let seduce him eliminates his personal space.

"You have a beautiful mouth." The stranger murmurs right before taking possession. Nimble fingers work Fraser’s buttons and zippers until he is mostly naked, shaking.

Confident hands slide up and down his arms as if trying to warm him. The man begins to pull back, but -

"No." Fraser whispers raggedly.

"You’re shaking. Are you cold?"

"No, please. I’m not cold. Don’t stop." The look of concern from his companion smooths away. He quickly takes off his own clothes.

"Lay down." And Ben shimmies the rest of the way out of his jeans and does so. He is barely down on his back before the weight of the other settles on top of him. And they pick up where they stopped.

It’s all mouths and hands and the sweaty slide of skin on skin. And it is so consuming, Ben feels like he’s on fire. In a very beautiful kind of hell.

"I don’t, I don’t have anything. I - ." The man rasps above him as his erection slides against the crease of Ben’s thigh. Fraser shakes his head from side to side and clutches at the man’s shoulders. Without a word, draws his knees up. The permission clear. For just a moment, his seducer falters. And then he grins down at Ben.

"I knew I liked you." The preparation is shaky and not as complete as it should be. It hurts when he enters and Ben is just coherent enough in his own head to think that it should hurt. It’s a first time of sorts and it should hurt. Everything else in his life does right now.

He comes shouting his husband’s name. Ray, Ray, Ray. And he’s not sure if the shout is audible or just in his head. Benton Fraser holds on tight to the man inside him like he wishes he had that morning. Just a few minutes more, maybe a couple of seconds more. Because maybe if he’d held onto Ray a just a little bit longer that morning, someone else might have gotten the call about a witness who could help ‘break his homicide case wide open’. Tom or someone else might have interviewed the witness. And it isn’t that he wishes what happened on anyone else. He simply knows that it wouldn’t have happened if it had been anyone else. It was Ray’s Rayness that triggered the incident. A jealous boyfriend misinterpreted a flirtatious interrogation for flirting with intent.

At the hospital, he remembered feeling grateful that Ray was alive. He remembered the conflicted emotions of being happy that the witness’ body slowed the bullet enough that it’s damage to Ray wasn’t fatal. He hadn’t realized at the time that he was already a widower.

 

Spent the two men lay twined. Fingers thread gently through Ben’s hair and even that hurts now.

"How long have we been married." Benny stiffens in the arms holding him.

"Five years," the answer finally comes quietly.

"And how long -."

"Four years." Again it comes quietly

"What do I call you?"

"Benny."

"When was the last time we saw each other?"

"Six months ago."

"Shit. You footing the bill for this swanky joint?"

"You were hurt in the line of duty. And -."

"Four years. You must do something other than teach. You a stripper too?

That gets a belly laugh from Benton. It’s seems like a long time since he laughed.

"Somehow I do not think that Canadian government would take very kindly to a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted police moonlighting as an exotic dancer.

 

He laughs again and it morphs into a giggle, then slides into something with just a hint of hysteria. Ben clamps down before it can become a sob.

"I’m sorry."

"Don’t you apologize. You’re a cop, not a teacher? Is that how we met?"

"Yes." Ben answers like he has many times before.

"I was right. I am an asshole to let you keep doing this, all this time. I bet you’ve been faithful. Not even a one night stand."

"Ray - -."

Ray shifts them so that he can look into Benny’s eyes. He trails his fingers through Benny’s hair and the Mountie’s eyes close.

 

They’d had notebooks and family pictures arranged in Ray’s room so that each day he could orient himself to the truth of his identity. But one morning Ray had become enraged and screamed that he didn’t want those things in his room. That he didn’t want to be reminded of what he lost, of what he wasn’t. Because even though he could not retain the physical memory from day to day, some sort of mark had been left on his soul.

And the family let him have his way. They removed the items, but not very far away. As cruel as it sounded, they knew by the next day the tantrum and its reasons would fall into the abyss, forgotten like everything else. They would be no worse than when they started.

The next morning Ray had looked around his room at the pictures that had been returned while he slept and went ballistic. For a moment they hoped that he’d retained a memory, but as the moment expanded it became evident that some sense memory of the anger must have lingered. He’d been both restrained and sedated which prompted Benton to give in completely.

Every picture, every note, even the journal which contained the written history of their relationship, everything was banished from the room. In the ensuing days Ray Fraser-Vecchio woke up with no idea who he was and seemed to prefer it that way.

And Benton Fraser-Vecchio stayed away from the long term care facility for six months. Six months in which for the first in his life, he considered giving in to one of the forms of oblivion proffered on the streets he walked everyday. He hadn’t told the counselor.

"When did you suspect?" Ben asks, his eyes still closed.

"Maybe a little while after you sat next to me. There’s usually an attendant up my ass or hovering somewhere out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t pick up on anyone watching me after you sat down. And even with a broken heart, you don’t seem like the kind to get down in the dirt with some guy you’ve only known for twenty minutes. Especially a guy that looks like me."

Ben’s eyes flash open at that and he lifts his head to look into the emerald eyes of the love of his life. "You’re so beautiful Ray. So beautiful." Ray grins down at him.

"I didn’t realize you were blind." He leans in and they share a sweet kiss.

"You should divorce my brain damaged ass. This, it isn’t right. I’m letting you go. I’m giving you permission to leave me. When you leave today you, stop at the first divorce attorney’s office you can find and get it done. You’re not wearing your ring, that’s a good first step."

"Yes, Ray." Comes the sad, soft reply. He’s just on the edge of breaking down. Ray repositions them again so that Ben is laying on his chest. He sighs softly into the thick sable hair underneath his chin.

"How many times have I told you to leave me."

"I no longer counted after the tenth time."

"How, how can you survive this?"

The sob that had been cut off at the end of the giggling fit suddenly breaks free. The arms around him tightens. This is not the first time the question has been asked. After his collapse, in her efforts to insure that he truly understood what had happened to his life, his counselor had pointed out that as the damage to Ray’s brain had been finite, his brain was not in a state of deterioration. Not like Alzheimers, not like cancer. He was physically healthy. And using Ma Vecchio as a template, it wasn’t inconceivable that Ray would live another forty years. Another forty years waking up every morning without knowing who Benton Fraser was to him.

At the conclusion of that session, Benton found himself huddled in the deep recesses of a booth in a dark bar. He’d ordered a drink and sat shaking as the ice melted.

But a lot can happen in forty years, forty years for medical advancement. Perhaps it wouldn’t return to Ray what he had already lost, but it might allow him to retain. Perhaps, one day. Unfortunately, these days the family, the other Vecchios and of course they are Benton’s family have started to suggest though subtly that it would be okay for him to let go. His mother-in-law keeps trying to get Benton alone and he fears the conversation. Because if Ma Vecchio says it out loud, he’s not sure he’s strong enough to resist.

"You are my life."

"I can’t be."

And though their positions didn’t really allow for it, Fraser’s shoulder’s stiffened with resolve.

"Oh god, you are stubborn."

"So I’ve been told."

"By me."

"Yes."

And the silence rolls and expands for a little bit.

"What do you need Benny? Right now what do you need from me?"

"Say my name again, tell me you love me," Ben manages to choke out over the lump in his throat.

"Benny, Benny, Benny. Sweet Benny," the man holding him croons. And the inflection is a little off, but Fraser doesn’t care. It’s close enough.

"I love you Benny. I’m so sorry this has happened to you." Us, Ben thinks. It’s happened to us, but the man holding him and trying doesn’t really know the texture of that. And by tomorrow, he will no longer remember even this.

"Hold on to me Ray, for just a little bit longer. Please, hold on."

 

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> These are the things requested to be included/excluded from the fic.
> 
> include: first time, angst, heartbreak (unhappy ending optional)
> 
> exclude: non-con, bdsm, fluf


End file.
